


Lost Lovers and Cold-Blooded Killers

by NefelibataSpirit



Series: Overwatch AUs [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bonnie & Clyde, Alternate Universe - Historical, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-03-28 06:31:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13898298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NefelibataSpirit/pseuds/NefelibataSpirit
Summary: Amélie Lacroix is a sheltered woman living under the large roof of her wealthy parents. The infamous Lena Oxton is a criminal, an upcoming legend. The two meet in the most unlikely of circumstances and Amélie has to make a life-changing decision.This story is inspired by the story of Bonnie and Clyde and it is set during the Great Depression/Great Slump. I began this AU a while back with Chloe Fraser and Harry Flynn as the main characters but I'm gonna finish it with these two lovely lesbians.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Before reading, please know that this isn't based on every single little detail of Bonnie and Clyde's story.

"Sit up straight."

"Oui, mama."

"That dress is too revealing, you _fille naïv_ e. Throw it out."

"Oui, papa."

"Do you plan to marry that boy?"

"Non."

"Then stay away from him."

Amélie Lacroix was tired. She was tired of living under so many rules and pretending to be financially stable when their family fortune was slowly dwindling down. They had moved to London a few years before the stock market crashed and life here used to be pretty lavishing. Her parents had brought a huge mansion in London and hired servants, cooks, and even a chauffeur.

Now under the weight of this economy, she saw all of the people who worked for the Lacroix household walk out of their threshold one by one until there was no one her parents had to pay a salary to no matter how small it was.

She spent most of her days playing dreary tunes on the piano or practicing ballet in front of the mirror in her quarters. Her parents always emphasized that she should have classy hobbies. So instead of going to loud and lively parties, she was expected to stay away from those and play the piano at quiet social gatherings that used to be held in their house. Most of their family friends lost their fortunes and the Lacroix family closed their doors to anyone who even let the mention of borrowing money slip from their mouths.

The only family that kept their fortune was the family of her dear friend, Sombra. Sombra, the only one she could feel at ease around and tell her secrets to. Sombra had a secret of her own: she was an inventor. Or at least she dreamed of being one. She had shown Amélie so many designs of different gadgets that looked as though they were from some alien universe. Her latest design was a "cell phone" with a "touch screen". She called it a smartphone and Amélie remembered the young Latina shoving a sketch of a square device with no buttons except for a few on the sides of it under her nose. At first, Amélie thought that the idea was crazy, but when she listened to Sombra's technological explanations, she said that she would be the first one to buy it in response.

They used to sneak out together to extravagant parties dressed as flappers. They would drink, laugh, and dance all night and actually act their age. These parties had always fascinated the French woman and she would've loved to go to them every single night. It made her remember how alive she used to feel before all of this.

But her parents existed. Her parents set her in a trap ever since she was a little girl. Now that the economy is hanging on a thread, the trap was even more secure. She was barely allowed outside of the house.

So as she stood in front of her parents in the lounging room, her nerves bit at the edges of her chest but she was determined. "I would like to go to the movies with Sombra."

She thought she saw that her mother had choked slightly on the red wine she was sipping. Her father made a noise of disbelief by the intricate fireplace that cast a warm glow throughout the room. The atmosphere of the room was anything but warm, though.

"Es-tu fou?" her mother chuckled weakly, her smile not meeting her eyes, "No."

"Why not?" Amélie demanded, ignoring the gruff 'listen to ta mère' from her father, "I do everything you tell me to do. I don't leave the house unless I have to. I wear what you want me to wear. I talk to who you want me to talk to. I play piano for you. I am an adult!"

"Do you know how dangerous that is?" her mother set down her wine, "Who knows what kind of beggar you'll encounter the moment you step out of this house. They're not good people, chérie."

"They're not good because they're poor?" Amélie countered incredulously, "Because they're doing way worse than us? Nearly everyone in this country is poor at the moment!" Her mother sighed, but she kept pushing it, "It is just Sombra--who is also a legal adult--and a movie. We'll be back before sun set. The theater will be dark when the movie is playing anyway. No one will see how "rich" we look."

Her mother fixed her with a gut-curling glare before exclaiming, "Augustin?"

She was surprised that her mother was even giving her father the choice to decide. Her father turned his stare from the burning fire to the two women of the family. "Forgive me, Eleonore," At that, hope began to grow in Amélie's features, "But if I was her age, I would have wanted to go to the movies every day. She is right, mon amour. She is an adult. Let's give her a moment of freedom for once."

Yes.

"Very well," her mother softened her eyes at the mention of 'moment of freedom', but they hardened again when she focused her eyes back on Amélie, "I want you back here by 7:00."

"Understood," Amélie dared to let a smile grace her lips, "Thank you maman, papa." And with that, she promptly left to her room to get ready.

 

-

 

"I can't believe they let you out of the house, chica," Sombra laughed as they took their seats in the back corner of the theater, "You didn't even have to sneak out to come meet with me. Although I prefer a much later time to see a movie."

"I am just glad we are here."

Amélie couldn't even remember when was the last time she had been to the movies. She didn't even care that the movie they were about to see was about some sappy love story between a man and a woman. A movie is a movie and at this point in her life, Amélie wouldn't even care if the movie lasted for five seconds.

The theater was quite crowded, almost every seat being filled. Apparently it was a popular movie. The woman on the screen was the typical American belle: white, blonde, and chipper. Amélie couldn't help but wonder if films would become more diverse in the future.

Probably not, she thought. Sombra and her family were still looked down upon even though they were wealthy. Sombra had even told her action-filled stories of how she had to avoid being harassed in the street by creating a safe spot that she always ran to whenever she felt unsafe and no one could ever find her there. Apparently, she was pretty good at finding escape routes, thankfully. Amélie still hated the way she had to go out of her way to do that all because she came from a different country, heritage, and culture.

The lights dimmed down into darkness as the movie began. Sombra left to go to the bathroom at some point. She barely noticed when a young woman sat beside her, but when she did, she took note of the woman's short spiky hair.

She's never seen anything like it before. At least not on a woman. It was as short as a flapper's hair, but spiked up instead of curled.

The woman had a bright smile on her face as the two characters first stumbled upon each other on the screen. "Gotta love these sappy movies, right, love?" the woman said in an undertone, her eyes gliding over to her. Amélie blushed when she was caught staring.

"I don't go to the movies that much," Amélie whispered, looking down at her lap before focusing back on the screen.

"Doesn't take much to know the same ol' plot of these kind of movies though," the woman sighed, sinking down in her seat a little, "They meet, they have fun, something comes up, it gets better, and they're married and it's happily ever after. When will they spice it up?"

Amélie couldn't believe she was having this kind of conversation with a stranger, especially in a movie theater _during_ a movie. No one seemed to be bothered by their whispering, though, so she replied, "I guess it just provides a little hope for some people, seeing that this kind of romance lives on forever."

"Does it really, though?" The woman turned towards her again, "We never know what happens after the end credits." As she said that, the beam of a flashlight suddenly pierced through the darkness in the theater. It glided over the heads of different people. The woman briskly put her cap back on and ducked her head low as men in blue uniforms slowly made their way down the steps, searching for someone in the audience. "Aw, rubbish. I just got here! Guess that's my cue to leave. It was nice meeting you..." she waved her hand in the air, wanting her name.

"Amélie."

The strange woman smiled. "Amélie."

And with that, she stood in a crouch-like manner and made her way across the row of people towards the exit.

"There she is!" one of the cops shouted. The woman broke out into a dash out the doors with the coppers stumbling after her. Strange.

Soon, Sombra came back and took her seat next to her. "So, what did I miss?"

"I think I just had a conversation with a criminal of some sort."

 

-

 

After explaining every single detail to Sombra (who demanded that she tell her everything that happened during the time she was in the bathroom) after the movie, the Latina led it to a more _personal_ route.

"I don't know, I'm just saying," Sombra laughed, imitating a dismissive shrug that was anything but dismissive, "From what you told me, she might have had a thing for you."

"Oh, arrête," Amélie huffed as they turned a corner on their route back to Amélie's house, "I doubt she thought anything of me, especially with the cops after her. And plus, why would she think of me that way? It's wrong--"

"Ay Dios," Sombra groaned, slowing down her walking which forced Amélie to match her leisure pace, "Drop the whole straight act, will you? I know you, chica. We both know you'd rather jump off a cliff than marry a man. And if you _must_  pretend to be straight, then at least be respectful. You don't have to bash your own identity."

Amélie resisted the urge to run away to the opposite direction, but she knew Sombra would easily catch up if she did. "How did you--"

"You are my best friend," Sombra interjected, gazing into her eyes sternly, "Of course I'd know these kinds of things about you. Remember, I know everything."

Amélie rolled her eyes, "Whatever."

"So what's it like?"

"What?"

"Liking girls, what's it like."

"It is alright, I guess?" Amélie said lamely, not knowing how to answer the question.

Sombra laughed, "I mean what is it like to have to hide it all the time?"

Amélie thought for a long moment before answering, "It is torture."

 

-

 

After a lot of hushed convincing while Sombra sat in the other room, Amélie finally influenced her parents to let Sombra spend the night at their place.

And by spending the night, they mean sneaking out to the party of some big shot. Sombra said that the friend that is throwing the party is opening his doors to anyone and everyone. It will be crowded, loud, and lively and Amélie was bouncing on her feet as she finished adding the finishing touches to her outfit. 

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Amélie asked, putting on her red lipstick.

"Trust me," Sombra grinned as she put on some sprits of perfume that was enough to fill the room with the smell of roses, "It's gonna be real fun. Plus, your parents are asleep which means you won't get caught. Bonus!"

Amélie rolled her eyes. "Sombra--"

"Breathe, chica," Sombra stood up and turned to her with a reassuring look in her eyes, "I won't leave your side."

 

-

 

It only took about ten minutes for Sombra to leave her side.

Her friend was swooped away by a group of men and women she didn't know or cared to know. She was surrounded by adult toddlers all holding glasses of various alcoholic drinks. 

At least the house is huge, Amélie told herself. It had a grand staircase, marble statues, fancy food, and a jazz band. She tried to have a few drinks of champagne to loosen herself up, but it only caused her to feel a little sick.

The stench of alcohol mixed with sweat and tobacco smoke made it worse and it was enough to push Amélie out towards the surprisingly deserted balcony. She closed the glass doors behind herself and leaned over the balcony, letting out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

This was nothing like the parties in the past. The parties back when everyone had more money than they had now weren't as rowdy and crowded.

"Overwhelming, innit?"

She jumped and snapped her head over her shoulder only to find the woman from the theater she met earlier that day. The woman grinned and ambled towards her side, leaning over the balcony with her. "Bit surprised to see you here."

"You're telling me," Amélie huffed out a dry laugh, "I'm guessing the cops didn't catch up to you?"

"'Fraid not," the other woman giggled, "Guess I'm just too quick for them."

It didn't seem like she was going to explain why the cops were chasing after her in the first place. Before Amélie could push for more information, her thoughts were interrupted.

"Amélie, was it?"

Wow, she remembered. "Oui."

"What are you doing at a party like this?"

"I'm not a stranger to parties, if that is what you're asking," Amélie pointed out, "It's just these kind of parties. I have not partied in a long time."

"Oh?"

"This party," Amélie mused, staring down at the crowd of people dancing on the front lawn of the house, "The people here are so much more wild, so much more--"

"Desperate," the woman interjected, "Desperate to forget about these dark times, I reckon. They want to get drunk, dance all night, and have sex just to forget the fact that they have to go back home to nothing in their refrigerators."

Amélie eyed her thoughtfully. "And what do you aim to get from these kind of parties?"

The woman met her eyes. She looked like she was seriously considering something before the pondering look completely disappeared from her face in the midst of a bright smile. "Nothing important, really."

God, is it possible for this woman to be even more intriguing than she already was?

Hungry for at least a little bit of information, she asked, "What is your name?"

"Lena."

Right when she said that, the glass doors swung open to reveal a man and a woman in a fiery kiss as they backed onto the balcony.

Lena scratched the back of her head, letting out a small laugh before extending her hand, "Wanna find somewhere else to chat?"

"Oui," she responded, placing her hand in hers.

They maneuvered their way through sweaty bodies all the way up to the third floor of the large house. The hallways were more empty than the second and first floor and they entered a room that appeared to be a spacious, cozy study.

She couldn't help but think of how opposed she would be if it was some guy leading her away from the mass of drunken party goers in the lower floors. She sat down in a comfy, leather armchair and stared at Lena as the smaller woman took to searching for hidden alcohol, letting out an "aha!" as she found a bottle of champagne perched on one of the many bookshelves.

She couldn't be blamed for being curious, right? This woman--this strange, bold woman--who runs from cops and speaks in philosophical ways and that hair--

"Why is your hair like that?" Amélie blurted before she could stop herself. Seeing how Lena quirked up her eyebrow as she took out two glasses from a mini cupboard, she rambled on, "I have seen nothing like it before and I'm just curious. It actually suits you very well--"

She was cut off with a bubbly laugh that Lena seemed to be holding in. "No worries, love! I was really young when I first cut my hair. My parents wouldn't let me because they were scared that I would never find someone to marry, heaven forbid," at that, the small woman rolled her eyes, "But I did it, anyway. Hair is hair and I doubt that something like that would keep me from getting married. Especially not with my preference of people." She gave the French woman a wink.

Amélie hummed in thought. She couldn't help but wonder how her own parents would react at the mere sight of Lena. They'd probably escort her out at first glance without even getting to know her first.

 "So," Lena leaned against a bookshelf, swirling the sparkling liquid in her glass, "You're from France, right?"

"Oui."

"Heard it's gorgeous over there," she smiled to herself, "What made you want to come to London?"

"It was not my choice."

The other woman's smile faltered. "Are you married, love?"

"Non, non," she shook her head, watching as Lena seemed to relax at that, "Although my parents desperately want me to marry."

"Do _you_  like the idea of marriage?"

"No, not really," she sighed, "Especially not now." She studied how Lena nodded thoughtfully, "And you?"

The small woman let out a laugh. "Ah, good one, love. I don't see myself marrying anyone ever anytime soon."

Amélie could feel the question of why she doesn't see herself committing to marriage clawing at her throat, but she held it in.

Lena set down her glass and sank into the chair across from her. "I know you want to ask."

"Ask what?"

"Why I don't want to marry," she grinned when a blush spread across Amélie's face, "S'alright, just ask."

"Why don't you want to marry?" Amélie reluctantly questioned.

"I guess I just don't have the time for it. For the commitment of it all." Lena replied, briefly glancing out the window, "Seems nice to settle down, but at the same time, where's the fun in that, anyway?" Her eyes flicked to the clock set on the coffee table in between them before settling her gaze back on Amélie.

"Got somewhere to be, chérie?" her eyes narrowed at Lena. What is she hiding?

If Lena wasn't't thinking hard before, she really was now with the way that she was leveling her stare on Amélie. After what felt like ages, Lena responded, "Y'know, you shouldn't ask questions with answers you're not prepared for, love."

She should've felt offended, but instead she felt like a challenge was just shot at her. And she was confused as to why Lena can't just answer a simple question, "I can be prepared for anything."

A suspicious little half-smile curved her lips, "Good to know. Then, we have exactly thirty seconds."

Amélie frowned, inspecting the woman who now shot up from her seat and searching through the drawers of the desk. "Quoi? Thirty seconds?"

"Yeah," she answered, plucking a golden pocket watch from one of the drawers and stuffing it in her pocket before striding over to where Amélie tensely sat, "We have to get going now. I mean," she shrugged, "You're so prepared and all, right?" she held out her hand expectantly.

 Amélie wasn't so sure anymore, but she'd be damned if she was going to admit that. So when she rested her hand in the waiting palm, she strangely had no regrets for whatever was going to happen.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

She regretted ever even considering accepting the Brit's hand.

When her fingertips touched Lena's, there was a loud boom from the front yard followed by a few popping noises. She couldn't help but to jump at the loud noises. "What was that? Were those--"

"Guns?" Lena finished for her, giving the room a quick once over as if seeing if she forgot something, "Nah, we only use those when absolutely necessary. Those are fireworks, love."

The French woman glanced out the window and sure enough, multi-colored lights lit up the sky. Before she can stare any longer, she was being pulled into the hallway. The fled down the stairs, passing all the people flooding through the front door to watch the fireworks light up the sky in awe.

However, the two woman didn't follow the crowd. Instead they made their way to the backdoor, fleeing through it and passing through the flowers of vibrant colors. Amélie gathered herself to finally ask, "Lena, where are we--"

"Lena, what in the _fuck_!"

Amélie nearly winced at the harsh language. They had approached a black V8 Ford whose engine was running. Standing outside of it and having a smoke was someone Amélie could only describe as a big, hairy man. For one, he had a coily beard that flowed past his jugular. He didn't bother cutting the textured hair on his scalp either, seeing as to how it was braided back into a long, unkept braid.

"Amélie, this is Winston, my dearest friend," Lena grinned, giving Winston a big hug before pulling back, "And Winston, this is--"

"Oh, stop kissing up to me," Winston snapped. The man adjusted his glasses as if he was trying to see the two of them clearly and in disbelief.

Lena giggled and patted him on the shoulder, "Now let me explain, Winston--"

"Explain in the car," Winston nearly grumbled, opening the door for them and practically shoving Lena in the passenger side, "I can already tell this is gonna be a long story." He eyed Amélie for a moment, politely gesturing for her to get in the backseat of the car even though the situation seemed pretty urgent. 

The politeness didn't stop Amélie from feeling hesitant, though. "My friend," Amélie uttered, still in a bit of a hurried shock, "She's still in there."

"Don't worry so much, love!" Lena called from the backseat, "Trust us, everything will go smoothly!"

After Amélie still found herself in deep thought, Winston cleared his throat, pointedly peering at the pocket watch in his hand. Amélie pulled herself into the backseat of the car, feeling as though she was going to regret this. Winston circled around to the driver's side, narrowing his eyes at Lena as he put the car in drive, "This better not be another one of your 'lady friends for the night'." He said the last part mockingly.

"Oh, hush," Lena rolled her eyes, "It wasn't even meant to be like that. I'll have you know, I met her earlier today in a movie theater! A perfectly civilized, normal place."

"Isn't that the same theater Lúcio told me you ran off to after you got into _another_  skirmish with the cops?"

"They were being dickheads! Plus, Lúcio said to cause a distraction and I did!"

"You called them worthless pigs," Winston deadpanned, as he turned a corner, "And it resulted in you in a wild goose chase from the police."

"Exactly!"

Winston rolled his eyes and Amélie chuckled quietly in the backseat, wondering what she had gotten herself into. She must have gone crazy, getting in the car with these two strangers.

They pulled into an alley that was a short distance away. Winston put the car in park and turned off the headlights.

"Anyway, we'll get Amélie home safe and sound," Lena shrugged, watching as Winston shot her a confused look, "Say Amélie, where do you live, love?"

The rational side of her knew it would be downright stupid to give criminals her address. But for some reason, she didn't care. She just wanted to go home before any more strange things happen. As if things couldn't get any stranger.

There was a knock on the back car door and they all jumped, their attention stolen by a man with a crazed expression on his face. His hair was singed at the ends and he was shirtless and _his whole image just screamed crazy_. Behind him was a man with a dark expression. He wore a leather mask that covered his mouth and nose. 

Amélie stood corrected.

"Go on, open the door, love," Lena said. Amélie pushed the door open for them, hoping with all her might that they weren't all going to try and squeeze themselves in the car. "Oi, where's Lúcio?" Lena asked the two men.

Suddenly, another man began hopping behind the big, masked fellow, trying his best to make sure they could see him, "I'm right here!" The masked man practically picked the small man up and set him in the backseat. "Whew, thanks!"

Now that Amélie could see him properly, she saw that unlike the other two, he was the only one dressed up, his suit complete with a green bow tie. His long locs were pulled back into a neat low ponytail.

"We need to work with them more often," the man with the green bow tie jerked a thumb at the two men before dropping a few pieces of very shiny jewelry into the bag Winston was holding, "They're great."   
  


"Yes, yes, that was fun and all," The man with the singed hair said tersely and Amélie did not fail to notice that he had an Australian accent,"but we came for the bombs--" 

The masked man grumbled something from behind him.

"--Fireworks," the other man continued as if he wasn't interrupted, "and the moolah. So tick tock, tick tock, tick tock." He shoved an open hand towards the front seats expectantly.

Lena placed a wad of cash in his dirty palm, smiling thankfully at the pair. "Thanks for your help, guys. Couldn't have done it without you."

After nearly gushing over the money in his hands, the man who had taken to speaking for the both of them cleared his throat in a comical, gentlemanly manner, "Well, our work here is done. If you need us to blow anything else up, you know where to find us." And with that they set off down the road on their own.

\--

 

After a brief introduction between Lúcio and Amélie, the subject of the French woman's address came up again. Amélie still did not trust them enough to reveal where she lived, so she told Winston to drop her off at a corner near her house, thanking them for the ride.

"No problem, love!" Lena shoved her face into Winston's space so that Amélie could see her, "It was a real pleasure meeting you! Who knows, maybe we'll meet again some time. Oh, and also, it's a bit important that you keep what and who you saw tonight to yourself. We don't want the law on our tracks now, do we?"

Amélie nodded her understanding, waving at them as they pulled off and turned a corner.

"So, Lena," Winston said conversationally as they turned the corner,"What the hell was that?"

"Our ticket to some more moolah," Lena replied, rubbing her thumb and forefinger together for emphasis. When Winston gave her a dumbfounded look, she said, "Just trust me, guys. Make sure we don't lose her. Hurry up and circle the block, Winston."

 

\--

 

Amélie snuck in through the window to he room. She paused, only relaxing to hear the muffled snores from her parents coming from the other room. She stripped from her clothes, running a bath for herself.

She picked up the telephone and began dialing Sombra's number, waiting anxiously. She let out a sigh of relief when she heard a "hello?" from the other line. She spoke in a hushed tone to avoid waking her parents. "Sombra, I am glad you made it home safe. Are you well?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that? What happened to you? You missed the fireworks, chica!"

"Trust me, I didn't."

"I looked everywhere for you, where did you go?"

Amélie stayed silent for a moment, pondering over what she was going to say. "Remember that girl I told you about in the movie theater?"

"You are kidding with me!"

"Non."

"She was there! Damn, how come I can never get to meet her?"

"She brought me home," Amélie chose not to go into all the details, wanting this to be as soft of a story as possible, "Safe and sound. Almost gave me a gold pocket watch, but I refused."

"What?!" 

Amélie didn't know why she was lying to her best friend, but she figured this story was way better than the whole criminal thing. "Yes, and she introduced me to some friends of hers."

"Oh I have to meet her now. You have to introduce me!"

"I forgot to get her number."

  
"¡Mierda!" was Sombra's disappointed response, "Maybe you'll see her again."

"I hope so."

"Aye, 11:11 is in one minute," Sombra suggested slyly, "Let that be your wish. I have to go, I think I woke up my mother."

"Goodbye, mon amie." And with that she hung up. She stared at her clock. She didn't believe in superstition, but for some reason something told her that Lena was worth it. That the young girl with the spiky hair was her key to escape the dreaded routine that was her life.

She said the wish over and over again in her head as she prepared to bathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So short, I know. This is hella fun to write though so i'm going to update more often.


End file.
